The Unbearable Lightness Of Lace Pt 1 free porn video

The Unbearable Lightness of Lace Dedicated to the genius that is Melissa Daniels AUTHOR'S NOTE: 'The Unbearable Lightness of Lace' is a serial story that I've been writing on the Locked in Lace interactive Force Fem role-play site run by Melissa Daniels, which originally took its inspiration from the 'Hotel' story by the equally talented genius that is Deborah Ford. While not quite finished yet, I have enough of the story in final draft form that I can begin compiling it for a Fictionmania release in several parts. Hence the first of several posts here. For those not familiar with 'Locked in Lace', the stories on that site take place within an evil corporation (M&R) that forcibly feminises unsuspecting sissy men, usually with the help of their wives, girlfriends, mothers and/or sisters. Here then is the unfortunate tale of one Mark Peyton, up and coming Trainee Manager within the M&R hierarchy who soon finds the tables turned with alarming results... Chapter One There were many things Mark Peyton loved about being a Trainee Junior Manager for M&R, not least the generous salary, flash car, stylish open plan apartment, and expense account, but what he loved most of all was being able to click his fingers while seated at his desk and know with certainty that Joanna, his pretty blonde secretary, would know to stop whatever she was doing, scurry over on her four inch heels, kneel down, unzip his trousers and give him an incredibly satisfying blow job on command. It was a sight to behold - that beautiful head bobbing up and down over his lap, those cherry red lips taking his swollen cock, licking and sucking as he leaned back in his black leather executive swivel chair, sighing and gasping in contentment. "Oh baby, you're on fire today," moaned Mark as he clenched his fists in ecstasy and squeezed his eyelids shut as Joanna's tongue did something truly wonderful to the little sensitive spot on the underside of his shaft. What was even more of a turn on was knowing he had complete power over the little minx, for if she had hesitated at all, or if she had failed to apply herself 100% to the task at hand, he could have her ass caned until it was bright scarlet. Because Joanna, like nearly every girl in the building, save those irritatingly powerful Middle Managers, was an M&R girl and that meant she was there to please. Joanna wasn't a real girl of course, not in the biological sense of the word, for she possessed a healthy set of male genitalia locked away under her short office skirt, not that you would have known that to look at her. Once, many months ago, she had come to the complex as a man, but M&R had given her the sort of feminine body and face that drove men wild with desire. It was what they did - the very modus operandi of their business model and as far as Mark Peyton was concerned it was a wonderful business to be part of. Mark suddenly gasped and shook as he came in Joanna's mouth. Damn it, why had the girl driven him to climax so soon? It was always the same - waves of ecstasy and then BAM! All over. Some male managers, he had heard them boasting at the water fountains, took their pleasure from the office sluts for hours on end, taking it in turns to do mouth, vagina, ass and then back to mouth, pausing only to send for more chilled champagne and oysters, and perhaps another couple of girls, but for Mark Peyton, thrusting young go-getter, eager to claw his way up the corporate ladder, he had never got past the two minutes twenty three seconds mark. He knew this for a fact because he kept an eye on the clock on the wall, hoping each time to crack the 'three minute mile'. One minute forty five seconds this time. And that included the time taken to undo his belt and unzip his trousers. It was the bitch's fault for doing things to him that were obviously designed to make him come too early. "Sir?" She gazed up at him with smudged lipstick and cum on her chin, nervous for what he was about to say next, for surely she knew only too well that Miles Bradshaw, the manager in Mergers and Acquisitions boasted of lasting three hours at least. Mark hastily stuffed his now flaccid penis back into his Calvin Klein underpants and sniffed. "We're very busy today, Joanna, had to come early you understand. Lots of memos and emails to catch up on. Could have lasted hours of course, but not on company time..." He gazed back at the clock. Definitely just one minute, forty five seconds. Damn it! What was wrong with him? Why couldn't he last longer? "Of course, Mr Peyton. I understand." "Understand? Understand what?" "Nothing, Sir." Joanna quickly bobbed a respectful curtsey and wistfully gazed back in the direction of her swivel typing chair. "Will that be all for the moment, Sir?" Mark adjusted his executive silk tie and ran his hand through his hair. He was a handsome man with almost girlishly good looks, and in his Armani suit he felt like a million dollars. Bloody Joanna, making him come too quickly. It was all a plot against him - all the girls did it. They probably had some sort of tongue trick they didn't use on Miles Bradshaw from Mergers and Acquisitions. Mark Peyton comforted himself by gazing at the three awards on his desk - 'Bonus of the Month' awards for August, September and October, accompanied by a personal certificate of thanks from Melissa Daniels for bringing in the most number of sissies three months running. It was just as well he had those awards because it was well known that in other regards Mark was a lacklustre and possibly even incompetent manager, lacking in the sort of basic discipline required to run a department properly. And yet to everyone's surprise, since joining in June, Mark had beaten all the other departments in luring in record numbers of hapless males for forced feminization. While many of the inductees were pre-arranged, sponsored by angry wives, girlfriends, and mothers, and while some even walked in of their own accord, managers at all levels were encouraged by a generous bonus scheme to use their initiative and go out looking for suitable acquisitions themselves. Mark's success was no accident, for it hadn't taken Mark long to recognise that M&R was a monolithic bureaucracy, top heavy with bimbo secretaries who were only capable of routine filing and typing assignments, and that it wouldn't be hard to fake a number of inductees, create convincing profiles on the M&R mainframe, pretend they were real, and collect the bonuses for feminizing them. With the multitude of departments and sub-departments it was easy enough to move the profiles around from place to place so that by the time anyone noticed a new name, that name had already passed through several other departments. Maybe Mark had overdone it a little this month, creating far more fake profiles than he had done in the previous month, but the thought of winning the 'Bonus of the Month' award for an unprecedented fourth time, with the possibility of actually meeting the glorious Melissa Daniels in person, was too much to put at risk. It was whispered that a manager who won the award four times would be permitted to kiss Miss Daniel's wrist - something that no one had ever been allowed to do before. THAT would show bloody Miles Bradshaw from Mergers and Acquisitions who was top Trainee Junior Manager around here. Yes it would. "Um, Mr Peyton, Sir," Joanna shuffled nervously in front of his desk, playing with her hair in that bimbo way that tended to drive him to distraction at times. She was such an airhead, useful only for basic office duties, but what red blooded male wouldn't want her around in that skimpy blouse, black mini-skirt, stockings and glossy heels? "Just a reminder of your ten o'clock this morning." "My ten o' clock?" Mark Peyton was notoriously bad at remembering meetings that were booked into his diary, in much the same way he wasn't very good at paperwork, business initiatives, staff motivation, time keeping, or 'work' for that matter, not that any of that mattered in view of his three 'Bonus of the Month' awards. Head counts - bottom line balance sheets - that's what counted with Miss Daniels. He could almost imagine the look of fury on Miles Bradshaw's face when it got round the departments that Melissa Daniels had allowed Mark Peyton to kiss her wrist in recognition of scooping the top award for a fourth month! "Yes, Sir, with Miss Jane Pain. She wants to go over some department details with you." "Who is she? Why would she want to do that? I'm a busy man, Joanna, I haven't got time for some bimbo to turn up at my office and expect me to entertain her. Why should I? "Well Sir, she is your boss..." "My boss?" Mark sat up straight. "She is?" "Yes Sir. She is." Was that a look of incredulity on Joanna's face? Surely not. "Why didn't you tell me I have a new boss?" "She's your old boss, Sir. It's just that she has a lot of trainee junior managers under her. You have been to team meetings with her every fortnight..." "Her? She's my boss? I wondered why she talked so much. I switched off at the meetings to be honest. Power napping with my eyes open. Far too busy for team meetings, Joanna. Um... coming here you said?" "Yes Sir, your ten o'clock this morning." "Oh." Mark straightened his tie again. "What's she like?" "Fierce and uncompromising, Sir. So I'm told." "Oh." Mark sniffed again and gazed at his reflection in the web cam window of his PC. Still looking good, Mark old boy - that's going to count for a lot when bossy boss turns up. One look at you and she'll be swept off her feet with your dashing good looks. Why, you'll have her eating out of your hand in no time. Fierce and uncompromising my ass. She's only a girl. "Go find a box of chocolates. All girls like chocolates. I'll offer her some to break the ice when she turns up." As Joanna scurried to the Executive Treats cupboard, Mark opened up the, now very familiar, 'New Inductees' programme on his computer. In for a penny, in for a pound, he thought as he set up yet another new profile for the morning. This one was going to be called Lucy Squeals and he set up the new account that would pay him an automatic $500 bonus. It was like stealing candy from a baby! There, according to the new profile, Lucy Squeals was sent here by an angry girl friend who had caught him cheating, and he had entered processing an hour ago, so by now would be in the early stages of feminization. No one would ever meet Lucy of course for Mark would subtly move the profile around from department to department, never allowing 'Lucy Squeals' to linger anywhere long enough for another manager to take notice. And then before long the profile would be swept away into the archives before anyone could find her. Mark leaned back in his big chair with a contented smile on his face. Still a couple of hours to lunch time, so he opened up the new Fallout 4 game on his computer, loaded his save point from yesterday and began playing it again with the sound turned off so Joanna wouldn't know what he was doing. Perhaps when I make it to four 'Bonus of the Month' awards I'll be upgraded to a bigger office with more slutty bimbo girls working for me, mused Mark Peyton as he savagely gunned down a couple of Super Mutants in the irradiated wasteland of 'Fallout 4'. He switched guns to the sniper rifle and ducked down in cover as he came under fire from another couple of mutants crouched somewhere in the ruins of a block of flats in the ruined building across the street. Fallout 4 was an amazing game, and Mark was glad he had a job where he could happily play it for hours on end with no one noticing. Even if he was working for Google he wouldn't be able to get away with that! In the end he took out the entire top floor room and everyone in it with an upgraded rocket launcher and sighed contentedly as the experience points racked up on the screen. Just another 873 points to the next level increase. Rock and roll! On his desk was a paper tray full of memos which had first struck him as incredibly archaic - didn't everyone use e-mail these days - until he recognised the old fashioned nature of many of the office pools with dolly bird typists who could easily have been transported out of the 1960s, albeit a 1960s office sex film. M&R seemed to thrive on keeping hundreds of airhead bimbos, many of them blonde, fully occupied with mundane office jobs that could easily have been computerised. Still, he had to admit as a training programme it worked wonders. He still found it hard to believe that virtually every girl who crossed his path had once been a man, blustering and protesting as he was forced into a frock. Mark had no respect for any of them. No real man would let himself be feminized like that. They even wore chastity belts, leaving them in a constant state of arousal with the inability to do anything about it. Frankly any man who was tricked into a skirt and heels deserved to stay that way. It was at times like this that he glanced up at the series of framed 'motivational' pictures that hung on his office wall, like they were hung on the office walls of every Trainee Junior Manager who joined the firm. While a few of them spouted the usual 'thinking outside the box' bullshit, one or two of them, usually featuring a stern looking picture of the beautiful Melissa Daniels wagging a warning finger, seemed almost ominous. That one above the coffee machine for example: NEVER FORGET: Trainee Junior Managers are only ever two bad quarterly performance reviews away from a short skirt and glossy lipstick. There had been rumours... well, rumours of rumours... Clive Braston of the South-South-South-West Division had just disappeared one day after two bad quarterly performance reviews in a row, round about the same time a pretty young thing about his height and build had turned up looking skittish and terrified in the typing pool. Probably just coincidence. He probably just jumped ship to another company, but still... Mark Peyton took comfort once again from his series of three 'Bonus of the Month' awards perched on his desk. Fake it until you can make it, he thought with a self satisfied smile. --------------------------- "Miles - about the squash game tomorrow lunchtime - I don't think I can... Holy shit! Sorry - didn't realise you were..." Mark Peyton recoiled in the open doorway of Miles Bradshaw's office as he quickly averted his eyes and gazed up at the ceiling, rather than in the direction of his co-worker. "Hey buddy - no worries! Don't be a goose - come on in. I'm just trying out the new Mark III M&R Sextronic Work Desk, and boy is it a neat bit of kit." Mark could barely look but forced himself to show no fear as he gazed back at the sight of the buff athletic form of Trainee Junior Manager Miles Bradshaw, resplendent in finely tailored haute couture suit jacket, shirt, tie and waistcoat from the hips up, and naked except for his argyle socks and polished brogues from the hips down. His alarmingly large cock (it was practically a sea serpent!) was sliding in and out of Louise Cums's ass. Louise Cums it seemed was strapped down on the Mark III M&R Sextronic Work Desk which resembled an upholstered exercise bench with lockable stirrups for the feet and a front mounted set of stocks with holes for the neck and wrists. Louise Cums was lying on her belly, secretarial skirt pushed up around her hips, feet in the stirrups, ass raised provocatively thanks to a finely weighted tilting mechanism, with her head and hands locked in front of her in the stocks-like apparatus. She was moaning in exquisite pleasure as Miles Bradshaw thrust at the helpless girl. But what made the Mark III M&R Sextronic Work Desk particularly noticeable was the solid shelf set above the girl's bottom, with ample space for a desktop PC, mouse and keyboard resting on it. As Mark watched in dismay, Miles was going through a series of e-mails and project plans with his hands as he thrust smoothly in and out of the helpless secretary with the piston driven precision of his cock. "Combining work and pleasure, the Mark III makes the most of the working week while allowing the talented executive to work off stress in the best way possible," said Miles as if reading from the brochure. "My work efficiency has improved by nine points since I started using it," explained Miles proudly. "Nine points!" "Um, yes..." "But, hey, where are my manners, buddy? Her mouth's free if you'd like to..." Miles gestured towards Louise's head, locked in place at approximately crotch height. "Thanks, but, um, maybe another time." Mark Peyton couldn't believe the size of Miles's cock - it probably required a weapons license to conceal it in public. "Hey buddy, meant to tell you the recent gossip. Seems there's a manager in this building who can't last longer than a minute or so. Can you believe that? One of us and he comes pretty much the moment a girl puts her lips on his cock. Disgraceful. Has a really small cock too, apparently." "Um, it's probably a lot more than a minute..." Mark stopped himself quickly before Miles picked up on that. "I mean, shit - you're right - that's terrible - makes us all look bad..." "You're right there, buddy! Of course, the girls in the office aren't naming any names - too frightened of being punished I guess, but I reckon you and I should make some enquiries and find out who this sissy in a suit is. If he can't keep it up for longer than a couple of minutes, and his cock size doesn't measure up to you and I, how about you, me and the other guys grab him one night, dress him up as a school girl and lock him in the dormitories overnight for the real school girls to have fun teasing. That'll teach him!" Mark swallowed hard. "Sounds a bit harsh. Maybe he's, um, just really busy and doesn't have a lot of time for sex? Needs to get it done quickly? And I'm sure his cock is at least average size..." "Yeah, maybe. Who knows. Anyway, what was it you came here to say?" "Um, just that, well... I don't think I can make the squash game tomorrow and..." "Afraid I'll whup your ass again, buddy?" Miles grinned as he continued with his long, slow strokes. Louise was squirming like mad now, whimpering, helpless, her G-spot stimulated beyond her control. "No, of course not, it's just..." "Because I'll tell you something buddy, you play like a dainty girl. Mincing about with that racquet like one of the school girls..." Miles mimed a sissy like serve with his right hand. "I don't mince!" Miles burst out laughing. "I'm just busting your balls, buddy, relax. But you do need some more practice. Tomorrow lunch time then, no excuses." "I'll, um, see you later - busy day..." Mark slipped out of Miles's office, feeling crestfallen and small as he did every time he ended up talking to the rugged Alpha Male manager. ---------------------------- If there was one thing that permanently served as an almost unbearable source of distraction and helpless longing for Mark Peyton, it was the sight of M&R girl Louise Cums going about her day to day duties, mincing around the offices in her tight little skirt, low cut white blouse, glossy heels and perpetual 'I need to be fucked right now' expression. The girl was simply sex on legs and Mark Peyton found it difficult to concentrate on anything much when she was around. The fact was, Mark Peyton was obsessed with Louise Cums to the point where once or twice he had actually sobbed uncontrollably in his pillow at night at the sheer frustration of not having her. What made it ever so frustrating of course was the simple fact that as a Manager at M&R, Mark could have her any time he wanted, bent over his desk for example, with her skirt raised up around her shapely hips. That wasn't the problem - the problem was that Louise Cums was a personal favourite of Miles Bradshaw, and while that didn't make her off limits in any way, it did mean that Miles Bradshaw would almost certainly get to hear of Mark's spectacularly poor sexual performance if he took advantage of the girl. Because he feared that if he wasn't able to control himself for more than two minutes with the average M&R girls, just the touch of Louise Cums's 'fuck me lips' on the tip of his cock, and the sight of those big wide eyes gazing up at him with lust would probably make him spurt within seconds. And then his reputation in M&R would be ruined the moment Miles Bradshaw got to hear of it, and hear of it he would, as the man could drive M&R girls wild with longing just by touching them and in that delirious state they were prone to tell him everything. "You seem very quiet, Mr Peyton, Sir," said Louise Cums in her breathless bimbo voice as she paused beside the door to Induction Room 7 where the latest subject for feminization was being held. Mark felt giddy as he gazed down at the luscious valley formed between the girl's ample breasts, uplifted in that lacy black balcony bra that peeked out from the scandalously cut blouse. "You look..." He swallowed hard, "Very nice today, Louise." "Nice, Sir?" Louise licked her cherry red lips and gazed up at him with a sultry pout that made him want to scream out in lust, throw her to floor and tear her clothes off that instant. "I mean sexy, really sexy..." Oh God, he wanted her so much. "It's just a silly little skirt..." She played with the hemline, absent mindedly raising it the inch that was enough to show off the lines of her stocking tops and the garter clips holding them in place. "So short... so awfully short... you must think me a total slut for dressing like this, Sir..." "No, no, of course not - I know it's the office uniform - you don't have a choice in the matter, Louise." "That's true Sir, we all have to wear these teeny short skirts and these silky, almost see through blouses with just two small fiddly pearl buttons, leaving so much of my cleavage on display. I know you can probably see the outline of my delicate black lacy bra through it... what must you think of me like this? So feminine, so soft and helpless, always ready to yield to the touch of a real man..." "Yes, well..." Mark's hands trembled and he quickly hid them behind his back. "Office uniform is office uniform." "You're so understanding, Sir. So caring and kind and sensitive to my feelings, just like the girls in my dormitory, not like the awful brutes that are the other managers. Oh God, Sir, the things they do to me in their offices - making me pleasure them in so many ways for hours on end, tying me up, using my mouth and ass, driving me to the point of orgasm, but of course I never reach it, because of this horrible chastity belt I'm forced to wear - so unbearable, the constant longing, making me desperate for the touch of those brutes - those strong, powerful alpha males - I feel wet just thinking of the way they touch me, Sir, wit their powerful demanding hands. You must think that so bad of me, Sir? To be so helplessly in need when they stand close to me? It's such a relief sometimes to be able to spend time with such a nice gentle manager such as yourself, one who sees me as more than just a helplessly aroused sex toy." Louise leaned forward a little while holding her pink clipboard and kissed Mark softly, ever so softly on the cheek, barely letting her lips linger on his skin. Even that little touch of her lips gave Mark an erection in his suit trousers. "I hope you don't think that's forward of me Sir, but you've always been so nice to me, it's the least I can do. Just a little sweet kiss, like we girls give one another when we're in our silk camisoles and French Knickers in our dorm rooms, just before going to bed. I feel so safe in confiding in you about those ruthless brutes of managers. They're so not like you - they're all so hard and they don't care about my feelings at all." Louise's eyes flicked momentarily down to the sight of the growing bulge in Mark's trousers and she gave him an innocent smile. She knew, though Mark didn't know that she knew, that it would only take a few strokes of her hand to make that cock spurt into his underpants now, soaking the Calvin Klein pants through to the trouser crotch itself. It would be so easy to do. All the girls in the secretarial pool knew by now, though it was their secret for the time being. Louise had given them all strict instructions that not a word was to be breathed by any girl to any manager about Mark's hair trigger impulses. Well, for the time being anyway. "Louise, I...." Mark reached out with his right hand but before he could say anything the girl quickly stepped back, checked her clip board and changed the subject, adopting a prim business like manner. "So, Induction room 7, Mr Peyton. The new sissy's name is going to be 'Trixie Licks' according to the records. She's had initial laser hair treatment, breast augmentation and hair extensions, and she's now locked in Chastity Belt 7-9-3-3-B. Shall we begin her processing?" "I've got breasts! My God, you've given me breasts!" "That'll be the first tick on the Sissy Bingo card, Louise," said Mark Peyton as he closed the door to Induction Room 7 and gazed at the man who was now called Trixie Licks. Louise Cums dutifully nodded and ticked off the first box on the bingo sheet on her pink clip board. Although he was at this point, without any make-up, still recognisably a man, his body had been subjected to the M&R depilatory process that permanently killed all hair follicles on his body except for on the top of his head. Long silky hair extensions had then been added to give him a luscious girly mane that any woman would be proud of, and finally (for now) he had undergone breast augmentation to a training size 'D' cup. A standard steel M&R chastity belt had been locked securely on his cock, and a matching collar with his new name inscribed on it was locked around his throat. He stood there, naked, trying to cover the chastity belt with one hand and his D cup breasts with the other like a shy girl might. "Right you are, Mr Preston, Sir." Louise stood with one hand loosely on her hip in a coquettish fashion that only served to inflame Mark Peyton's desires for her all the more. "Sissy bingo? What's sissy bingo?" asked the man, momentarily taken aback by the statement. "And that's tick number two," said Mark happily. "Looks like we'll have the card completed in no time at all." He gazed round the room as Louise scored another box. Like all the induction rooms on this level it was predominantly pink in colour with large mirrors mounted on every wall so that no matter where the soon-to-be-sissy looked, he would see a full size reflection of himself staring back. Furnishing was minimal - a table with two chairs on one side, and a clothes rail with several pieces of girlie clothing on hangers. Glossy and lockable four inch heeled shoes were placed on the table alongside a fresh packet of stockings, a garter belt, lacy knickers and a bra. "Sissy bingo is something we play when we process a new sissy like you, Trixie. You all basically say the same things like 'you can't do this to me', 'this is all a mistake', 'I didn't want this' and 'Please let me talk to my girlfriend/wife, and I'm sure I can straighten all this out' so every time you say something that's on the bingo card, we cross it off. It's just a bit of fun, Trixie." Mark sat down in one of the chairs and smiled at the confused man. "My name's not Trixie, it's Timoth-owwww!!!!" He suddenly jerked, twitched and howled in pain, doubling up as he tried to say the word Timothy. "Ah yes, perhaps I should explain that your chastity belt is programmed to emit a very painful shock to your penis should you ever try to say the word 'Timothy' or any derivation of it. Probably best not to say it in future - just stick to your new name now, Trixie Licks. Oh, and I think that counts for tick number three on the bingo sheet, don't you, Louise?" "Yes Sir, I think it does." She gazed down at the box that read 'My name's not xxxx, it's xxxx' and ticked it. "So then, my name is Mr Peyton, but you can call me 'Sir'. I'm a Trainee Junior Manager at M&R, and the sexy girl you've been trying not to stare lustfully at, too obviously, is Louise Cums. Believe it or not she was once a man too!" "Hiya!" Louise did a little finger wiggling wave and gave Trixie a perky smile. "Oh I do so hope we'll be BFFs soon! You're going to soooo love it here." "This is insane!" said Tim as he managed to stagger back up to his feet. "Where's Laura? The last thing I remember is having a drink with her at her flat and then passing out." "Ah yes, well, that would be the Carisoprodol/Cyclobenzaprine enhanced derivative she slipped into your wine. Potent stuff, I think you'll agree. It's what she does. We pay her $500 each time she calls and tells us to send a retrieval team." "She's my girlfriend! We've been going out now for three months. She wouldn't do that!" Mark sighed and nodded as Louise ticked another box on the bingo card. "What... what happens when all the bingo boxes are ticked?" asked Tim. "Oh, nothing much - except Louise here gets to spank you." "I so do!" said Louise with great enthusiasm and a cheerful sunny smile, as if she had just been promised a new puppy. "Your first spanking! Wow, and it will be from little old me. Gosh. Bad news first - uh-oh - yes, it's going to hurt." Louise did a sad pouting expression. "But good news next - hey, it would hurt soooo much more if a big brute of a Manager did it! That's good to hear isn't it? After all I can't hit as hard." "You've got to let me out of here! You can't do this to me! Please let me speak to Laura, and I'll sort everything out!" "Woah, slow down, slow down, Louise is having difficulty ticking the boxes quickly enough," said Mark with a grin. "What do you want from me?" whimpered Tim as he continued to cover his groin and D cup breasts with his hands. "Why have you done this? Why have you locked this.... thing... on my penis. I can't remove it!" "Well duh, obviously you can't. Wouldn't be much point putting it on you in the first place if you could." Mark indicated the selection of fresh new lingerie on the table. "Congratulations, Trixie, you're going to get your lifelong secret desire - to be a girl. Not just any girl, but a simpering bimbo sissy girl, and we're going to start with the panties, bra, stockings and garter belt." "I don't want to be a girl!" "Well now, the reports from Laura suggest otherwise." Mark took the report from Louise's clipboard. "According to this you frequently put on a dress and Laura did your make up. First time was on the 17th September." "But, that was her idea - she liked me to do that - I only did it because she insisted!" "Oh, right, so she made you dress up as a girl, yeah? She forced you?" "Yes! Sort of. I mean, obviously she didn't threaten to hit me or anything, but she was very insistent." Mark smiled. "Hmm. It's all so convenient isn't it when a girl 'forces' you to dress up in a skirt." Mark emphasised the word 'forces' in a very sarcastic tone. "Oh please, oh puh-lease, don't make me wear a skirt, that's the last thing I want to do," said Mark in a mincing sissy voice, wiggling his hands in the air in a mocking fashion. "No! It wasn't like that! I didn't want to..." "Oh no, I don't want to wear a dress, how horrible..." continued Mark in his mincing voice before dropping the tone to continue in his normal voice. "You're not fooling anyone, Trixie. A real man can't be forced into a dress. A real man would always say no. You dressed up because you secretly wanted to. Laura just gave you the excuse. You've always been a secret sissy, and here at M&R we're going to see that you become the girl of your dreams." "No, that's insane - I don't want to dress like a woman, you have to believe me. You can't make me. I am not putting on girl's underwear. No!" Mark leaned back in his seat and pointed to a large red button set into the wall beside the door. "Here's the thing, Trixie. If you don't do as I say and put on the garter belt, stockings, bra and knickers, then I'm going to have to press that button on the wall over there, and you really don't want me to do that because it calls for a real woman called Nikita and she'll come in here and she'll make you dress. Believe me she will. I'm actually quite curious to see what she does to you because all the other managers speak about her in hushed tones like she's some unstoppable force, so go ahead, stamp your foot petulantly and say no and I'll send for Nikita. I'm curious to see what she's like. All I know is she's a Russian woman who used to be a professional shot putter and she answers only to Melissa Daniels herself. So... what's it to be?" "You're all insane. There is nothing you can do that will make me change my..." "Louise, the button if you please," said Mark in an overly dramatic tone. "Yes Sir, Mr Peyton." Louise Cums wiggled her ass as she pressed the big red button and regarded the door apprehensively, taking several steps back. "See - even Louise Cums is scared," laughed Mark. "Looks like you're in trouble now, Trixie." From somewhere down the corridor there was the sound of a heavy metal door slamming open, followed by the slow ominous tread of heavy booted footsteps walking towards Induction Room 7. "Oooh, scary, here she comes," smirked Mark as he regarded Trixie. "Still time to change your mind." He nodded his head towards the bra and knickers. "Otherwise what happens next is all on you." The door to Induction Room Seven suddenly swung open to reveal the largest woman Mark had ever seen. Nikita was six feet seven inches tall, built like the Incredible Hulk, but with Double D breasts held secure in a reinforced studded leather sports bra. Other than the bra she wore camouflaged combat trousers tucked into Russian military issue boots and carried a coiled whip. Her hair was cropped short and she scowled at each and every one of the occupants within the room. Despite being in charge here, even Mark wilted momentarily under her gaze. "Someone require spanking," said Nikita in a voice capable of cutting glass. She fixed her gaze on the now terrified looking Tim who recoiled to the far side of the room, whimpering. "Wow, look at you," said Mark with a smirk. "This should be fun." "Little man be quiet or Nikita spank him too," she growled, fixing Mark with a glare. "She's obviously a bit confused," said Mark to Tim and Louise. "Give her a moment to get her bearings." "Final warning little man. No talk while Nikita work." She loomed over the seated Manager and placed her fists either side of her hips. "Hey, in case it's not obvious, I'm a Trainee Junior Manager and..." Mark suddenly yelped as the Russian giant took hold of him and flipped him effortlessly over her lap. Before he could protest, Nikita tore down his trousers, exposing his Calvin Klein underpants. "Little man ignore warning, little man be spanked." "Wait! You can't..." As Louise looked on in astonishment, Nikita pulled the underwear down around Mark's ankles, exposing his soft pink bottom - ever-so vulnerable looking - most certainly a bottom that had never been spanked before. Then with a series of thunderclaps that echoed down the corridor outside, Nikita rained down ten blows of the heavy coiled whip. Mark howled and struggled but couldn't free himself. One, two, three, four, five... he was weeping, begging Nikita to stop, but on she went, turning his butt cheeks flame red. Six, seven, eight. Louise couldn't take her eyes away from the sight of an M&R manager squealing and blubbering like a schoolgirl. Then with the ninth and tenth blows, Nikita released Mark and, taking hold of the scruff of his neck, frog marched him into the corner of the room. She turned him to face the corner and barked loudly: "Stand! Face wall! Hands at sides! Or Nikita spank little man again!" Mark stood, trembling, facing the wall, searing pain in his backside, his trousers and underpants twisted around his ankles, tears flowing down his face. Slowly Nikita turned round to face Tim as she un-shook the coils of her whip now, letting the long leather fall to the floor. "I'll get dressed!" screamed Tim, now terrified. He hurried to the table and grabbed the garter belt and stockings under the watchful eye of Nikita. "I'm getting dressed, look! I'll do whatever you say! Please don't do that to me!" Within a few minutes Tim/Trixie stood there in stockings, garter belt, lacy bra and panties for Nikita's inspection. The giant Russian woman nodded and recoiled her whip. "As for little man..." Nikita stroked the enflamed bottom with the leather caress of her whip, making Mark squeal and twitch, "little man behave in future before Nikita, or Nikita dress him in lace panties and bra too and march him round office. Understood?" "Yes..." whispered Mark. "Little man say, Yes Mistress Nikita." She tapped his bottom now with the leather whip. "Yes, Mistress Nikita!" "Better. Nikita go now." And with that she nodded sullenly in the direction of the wide-eyed and incredulous Louise Cums, and left the room. No one spoke for sixty seconds or so after that, until Louise coughed to clear her voice and said: "Mr Peyton, Sir, it might not be my place to say so, but I think you might have an erection..." ------------------------------- "Poor Mr Peyton," said Louise sympathetically. "Does it hurt much?" "Hurt much? I'm in agony. I feel like I've sat down on a white hot stove! I don't think I'll be able to sit down for a week, if ever... God, that bitch spanks like she's a steam driven industrial piston engine!" Mark Peyton was limping back towards his office and doing so very slowly indeed. "Listen, about the uh..." "The uh?" Louise sucked on a penis sized standard issue 'cherry' flavour lollypop as she kept pace with the battered and bruised manager. "You know, back there after I was spanked, the uh, thing you mentioned..." "The thing I mentioned?" Louise gazed up wistfully with innocent eyes as she slowly slid the long shaft of the lollypop in and out of her mouth wrapping her lips expertly around it for maximum taste. "That thing you, uh, saw..." "Oh! Yes!" She clapped her hands, excited that she had now indeed remembered. "You mean your erection when you got all excited because Mistress Nikita had spanked you hard, made you stand in the corner facing the wall, with your trousers and underpants around your ankles, and then ran her whip along your scarlet bottom and in-between your legs and made you call her Mistress? That thing?" Innocent blue eyes, gazing wistfully. "No, that's, that's the thing - you see, it wasn't like that, what you saw, what you saw right, the thing is, sometimes when a man is really well endowed..." "We're talking about Mr Bradshaw now, yes?" "No. No, why do you think we're talking about Miles Bradshaw?" "Well Sir, you suddenly started talking about men who are well endowed." "I"m talking about myself, Louise." Louise suddenly burst into a fit of giggles and quickly put the tips of her fingers up to her mouth. "What's so funny?" "Nothing Sir, nothing." Louise screwed up her mouth and adopted the look of a young girl desperately trying to hold back the giggles because she suddenly knew it was a joke she'd get into trouble for telling. "As I was trying to say, sometimes when you look at a penis from a certain angle, especially in artificial light, your eyes can play tricks on you and it can look like a plump healthy penis is at an enhanced angle, when in actual fact it's just the way you're looking at it, and the effect of, um... shadows?" "It was definitely stiff Sir. And quivering. I think there was a cute spot of pre-cum at the end. It's soooo pretty when the tip of a penis glistens like that. Shiny, shiny. I just want to go straight over and lick it off." "No, see, you can't go around saying that." Mark stopped walking and stared down at the incredibly sexy office girl. If only he could have her right now, bent over a table, legs kicked apart... "Oh." Now Louise adopted the M&R standard 'confused' expression of knees together, toes pointed towards one another and one finger resting under her lower lip, with her head tilted in puzzlement. "So if I tell people that you had an erection I mustn't say the tip was glistening? But why, Sir, because no one's going to mind that you had a spot of pre-cum on the tip of your penis, they'll simply be too interested in the fact that you were so excited by being beaten and forced to stand in the corner and..." "For Christ's sake keep your voice down." Mark quickly covered Louise's mouth as two schoolgirls walked by. Had they heard any of that? They were making a big show of not looking at him, but they were definitely giggling about something and whispering to one another. "No, what you can't say is anything about that at all, especially since none of it happened. Do you understand?" He slowly eased his hand away from Louise's mouth. "So um, what I have to go and tell people is that you weren't beaten and made to stand in a corner with your trousers around your ankles, and you didn't have an erection when Mistress Nikita stroked between your legs with her whip and..." "Are you a total fucking moron! JUST... DON'T SAY... ANYTHING!" Louise suddenly began crying, her body shaking. "You keep changing your mind and telling me different things to say, Mr Preston, Sir! It's not my fault! I'm only a secretarial typist! I'm not used to all these logic tricks you managers like to play on us." "It's not... it's not fucking difficult. I'm not..." He looked down as large tears rolled down that beautiful face. "Look, just... please, will you just... stop crying." Now the girl was sobbing even more and somehow she still seemed sexy, but now in a vulnerable waif like way that made men feel like protecting her. "You're probably going to report me now aren't you, Sir, because I'm useless, and you'll have me sent down to the dungeons for a month and leave me there to rot because I can't keep up with all your cleverness, because I'm such a bimbo. I'll probably die of pneumonia down there in the cold and damp and no one will care and no one will miss me and..." "No, look, I'm not going to report you - I'm not going to..." Louise suddenly threw herself at Mark and hugged him tightly, pressing her breasts against his chest so that when he gazed down he looked straight into that beautiful valley of desire, within its lacy bra enclosure and he felt his penis grow stiff again, twitching as if demanding, protesting perhaps that it be allowed to fuck this wanton slut. "Oh Mr Preston, you're the best manager here, you really are. So kind and gentle and caring, not like those rough manly brutes who occupy the other offices on your floor. Oh!" She suddenly let go of him, stepped back and stared past his shoulder. "I think you have Internal Audit waiting outside your office door, Sir." "What?!" ------------------------------------- "Good morning, Mr Peyton, or whats left of it. My name is Amelia Frost and I'm from Internal Audit." "It's a pleasure," said Mark as he tried to ignore the fierce burning sensation emanating from his bottom. Amelia Frost was a deceptively sweet looking woman in a tasteful and conservative business dress suit and three inch court heels, not at all fierce or strict looking, but Mark knew that appearances could very well be deceptive in this corporation. "Please don't lie to me, Mr Peyton. No one ever thinks it's a pleasure to speak to Internal Audit. And we like it that way to be honest." She made a quick note of something on her ipad. "Well, um, what I meant was..." If there were three things in life that made all but the bravest managers in M&R nervous and apprehensive, they would be in descending order of concern: 1) Annoying Melissa Daniels, 2) Annoying Renee Carter, 3) Meeting Internal Audit. "No need to explain. I'm sure you're very busy and wish to get through this as quickly as possible with the minimum degree of discomfort, so shall we adjourn to your office and I'll explain exactly why I'm here." "Um, of course, this way please Amelia." Mark gestured towards the office door and opened it for the 5 foot 6 inches tall girl with the straight black hair styled into a shoulder length bob. Moments later they were seated either side of Mark's desk as Joanna Oral looked on from her secretarial chair. "Perhaps you'd care for some chocolates while you're here?" asked Mark as he slid the box of Belgian Truffle centres towards Amelia. "Are you trying to bribe me, Mr Peyton?" She made another note of something on her ipad. "Good God, no. Just being... hospitable..." "Please don't. Here in Internal Audit we get offered a lot of chocolates and I'll be honest with you, it never works." "I wasn't trying to..." "So, congratulations on your marvellous achievement - 'Bonus of the Month' three months in a row!" Amelia suddenly stunned Mark by breaking into a warm glowing smile of sincere appreciation. She leaned over and shook his hand enthusiastically. "And between you and me, you look like a dead cert for the award for November as well! How wonderful." "Well yes, thank you..." Mark sat back in his chair and gazed approvingly at the three awards on his desk and the personally signed certificate from Melissa Daniels. "It's just a case of thinking outside the box, and treating everyday challenges as opportunities and..." "Please don't use corporate bullshit with Internal Audit, Mr Peyton. It never goes down well with us." Amelia's expression because frosty again as she made another note on her ipad. This time it beeped and she nodded as if understanding the response. She quickly typed a few words back before looking up again. "Word in the office is, if you make it four awards in a row, Melissa Daniels will see you in her office for five minutes to offer a personal word of thanks." Amelia was all smiles again. The sudden expression changes were having an unnerving effect on Mark as he chose his next words carefully. "It would be an honour. I've always wanted to meet our founder." "Indeed. She may well allow you to kiss the back of her hand briefly. Please remember not to let your lips linger for more than 1.25 seconds, and the proper form of respect when doing so is to bend at the waist and not at the knees." "Um..." "Also, remember to keep any remarks you may make short, interesting and to the point. Avoid rambling anecdotes designed to try and 'subtly' impress upon Miss Daniels how important you are to the day to day management of her company. She's heard it all before." "Of course." Award number four was practically in the bag! Why, it was possible that Melissa Daniels had already been sent an advance e-mail to ensure she had a 5 minute slot free in her busy diary to meet this 'extraordinary young man' who was revolutionising M&R management by hitting an unprecedented series of financial targets month after month. "Well then, said Amelia," as she clicked her ipad shut, "that's almost everything..." "It is?" Mark looked up in surprise. Wow, he thought to himself, a meeting with Internal Audit is a piece of cake really. Let all the other managers be scared of them, because when it came to dealing with Mark Peyton, Internal Audit knew they were dealing with a rock solid ship that required zero external supervision. "Yes, all I need to do now is the trivial routine appraisal of one of your randomly selected acquisitions - in this case we've chosen this morning's new acquisition, Lucy Squeals - and that will be it for a whole year. Congratulations in advance on passing your annual Internal Audit inspection." Amelia smiled warmly. "Lucy... Squeals..." Mark choked back the sudden shock upon hearing the name of the fictional 'girl' he had added to the data base earlier this morning to earn himself another $500 bonus. "Yes, it should only take ten to fifteen minutes - routine assessment you understand - and that will be it. Shall we say, three o' clock this afternoon?" "Um, the thing is..." "Yes?" Amelia Frost gazed at Mark with fresh interest now. "The thing is, I have a much better subject from this morning that you'd probably find more suitable for a surprise on the spot assessment - Trixie Licks. I could arrange for her to..." "No need!" Amelia raised her hand to cut Mark off. "If there's one thing Internal Audit is famous for, other than our rugged refusal to compromise in the pursuit of uncovering the slightest hint of fraud, it's our bureaucratic inflexibility. We'll stick with assessing Lucy Squeals." Amelia smiled again and opened her ipad to make a fresh note of something. "I really think that perhaps..." "Actually Mr Peyton, here in Internal Audit we're not very interested in other people thinking. Have Lucy Squeals brought down to Internal Audit room 101 by three o'clock please. Thank you, and have a nice day." --------------------------------------- "I am in so much fucking trouble... what the fuck am I going to do?" Mark Peyton sat alone and forlorn on a toilet seat in one of the private cubicles of the Junior Managerial toilets, with his trousers around his ankles. He had acquired some soothing nappy rash cream and had smeared it over his burning ass cheeks in an attempt to reduce the pain. Now he had his head in his hands and was contemplating the total ruin of his life that was about to occur shortly after 3 PM today, because of course Lucy Squeals did not exist. Various implausible scenarios ran through Mark's head. He had just over three hours to flee the building, take a taxi cab straight to the nearest airport and leave the country. South America perhaps, or Outer Mongolia. Somewhere where the long arm of Melissa Daniels could never find him. But he knew for a fact he'd never make it onto the airplane. Melissa Daniels wasn't stupid and she knew only too well the risk associated with an errant Manager absconding with all the knowledge of the M&R business in his or her head. She had incredible connections with law enforcement, and as a matter of routine the passport details of all her managers were flagged at airports. Any manager trying to board an aircraft without previously applying for permission from M&R would be immediately detained at check in and taken into one of the secure rooms. A phone call would be made to Melissa herself, and a retrieval team would be sent to bring the Manager back to face some extremely awkward questions. So fleeing abroad was out of the question. Perhaps he could hide in some quiet mid-west town in the States? Grow a beard and change his name? But no. In this day and age it was virtually impossible to do anything without identification. Hotels required your credit card. Renting an apartment required ID. It was impossible to obtain a decent job without a Social Security number. Maybe he could live for a few weeks in a tent with some cans of food in the countryside, but he had no survival skills. Winter was coming, as that TV programme kept saying, and living in a tent was not an option for someone as useless as Mark Peyton. "I am in so much fucking trouble..." Should he confess everything to Amelia Frost and promise never to do it again? No, he couldn't see that working in the slightest. He couldn't even make Lucy Squeals disappear now that Internal Audit knew of her existence. What could he say? She had spontaneously combusted? Hardly. "I am in so much fucking trouble..." The fact was if Mark didn't produce 'Lucy Squeals' for a ten to fifteen minute audit assessment by 3 PM, then Mark was going to feel the full wrath of the M&R Corporation for committing serious fraud over the last three and a half months. Mark trembled now because time after time he kept coming back to the only option available to him. If he wanted to avoid the nuclear option, then he had to produce Lucy Squeals, if only for 15 minutes, and the only way he could think to do that was to actually pretend to be Lucy Squeals himself... "Oh God, oh God, oh God..." It was 12.45 PM, and Mark was back in his office with the rough outline of a plan that could save his career, not to mention his skin. But for his plan to work he was going to require help, preferably help from someone dumb enough not to connect the dots and realise what he was up to. Luckily, the building was full of airhead bimbos, and for once Mark was grateful for the fact that most of them could barely type and chew gum at the same time. He needed someone who would just follow basic instructions without considering what was going on. "You sent for me, Mr Peyton, Sir?" Louise Cums wiggled into the room, her perky breasts threatening to burst the top button on the blouse as always. "I did, yes, thank you, Louise." Mark had sent Joanna away for the afternoon. She worked with him five days a week every week and was the M&R girl most likely to recognise that Lucy Squeals was in fact Mark Peyton, and so he couldn't risk having her around today. Louise was the perfect alternative choice - someone who knew him well enough to agree to do a few things that might seem unconventional, but not well enough that she might easily penetrate his disguise, assuming it would be good enough. "So, uh, here's the thing - I'm not the world's best at paperwork, and..." "Nor am I Sir!" said Louise with a perky smile as if she was proud of the fact. "Yes, well, the thing is I forgot to submit some 18993-C-34 forms last week - had a lot on my plate - and would you know it, there's been a bit of confusion with one of my new sissy acquisitions, one new girl by the name of, um," Mark pretended to try and recall the name, "Lucy Squeals. It's a bit of a mess frankly - she hasn't been processed properly today and would you know it, today's the day when I have a spot check by Internal Audit who want to see her. Tsk." Mark rolled his eyes as if to say, what are the chances. "So, um, because I didn't submit that form I don't actually have a set of clothes for her to hand, and I'm going to need you to go down to Uniforms and pick up a schoolgirl outfit for me. I'd do it myself of course but, well..." He spread his hands as if to suggest the office was awash with more important work. In actual fact of course it would be highly unusual for a manger to collect a uniform in person, particularly one that just so happened to be his precise body size. He had consulted the computer entry he had written earlier in the morning to remind himself which of the various categories Lucy Squeals had been registered as and with a sinking feeling he saw he had chosen 'School Girl' this time around. Why couldn't he have chosen 'Office Girl'? Yes they were scandalously dressed, but the school girl outfits were even worse. "No problem-o Mr Peyton," said Louise with a bright smile. "What size is she? 8? 10? 12?" "Um..." In all his more advanced planning Mark had overlooked small details like that. In truth he didn't understand girl clothes sizes - he assumed the lower the number the smaller the clothing, but outside of that obvious deduction he was stumped. "Not sure, Louise. Girl sizing isn't something I know much about." "Oh, it's not very difficult, Mr Peyton, Sir. For example you would be a size 10 blouse, a size 8 skirt, size 6 shoes, and size AAA chastity belt," she explained brightly, "so if you can tell me how much bigger or smaller Lucy is compared to yourself, I should be able to figure it out. So - blouse size then compared to you?" "Um, probably, sort of... roughly... my size." Mark blushed a little. "Okie-dokie, that's a size 10 blouse then. Skirts?" "Um, heh, well, what are the chances... skirts, well, actually, pretty much..." "Like you, Sir? Wow - I love coincidences. That'll be a size 8 school skirt then. How about shoes?" Mark was feeling very uncomfortable now. "I reckon probably... um..." "How about we go with size 6 shoes like you, Sir?" said Louise as she giggled. "Yes, good idea. Well thought out. I'm glad you're on side with all of this." Mark swallowed hard. "That just leaves penis size, Sir?" "So how does chastity belt sizing work then?" "Well Sir, the belts are measured on the penis size and range from A to G with graduations on ball sack size being counted for by additional letters. If both balls are within the correct proportions of the penis size, then the letters are the same." "So wait a minute, that makes 'A' the biggest?" Louise suddenly broke out into a fit of giggles and then quickly controlled herself, twisting her mouth into something resembling a serious expression. "Something like that, Sir." "Okay. Go get a schoolgirl outfit from 'Uniforms'. The other thing I'm going to need you to do is report back to my office at say 2.45 today, pick up Lucy Squeals and take her down to Internal Audit room 101. I'd do it myself, but I'll be in meetings most of the afternoon. The audit should only take 10 to 15 minutes, after which take her straight back to my office - no detours - definitely not to the Lily Academy for Schoolgirls - and leave her here. I'll finish her processing when I get back. Got that?" "I think so, Sir." Louise adopted the 'confused' posture again with her finger pressed beneath her bottom lip. "But why am I picking her up from your office?" "I need to record some details before she goes to Room 101. And since I'm going to meetings, it's easier if I just leave her here for you to find. But look, very, very important - what do you do when the audit interview is over?" Mark looked at her expectantly. "I..." Louise thought about this for a moment. "I..." "This is VERY important, Louise, when the interview is over, what do you do with Lucy Squeals?" "I..." "Come on... I told you just now..." "Yes!" Louise's face suddenly lit up. "I don't take her back to the Lily Academy for Schoolgirls, I take her straight back to your office, Mr Peyton, Sir, and leave her here for when you come back." "Good girl!" Mark beamed at her. "No detours, Louise..." he shot her a stern look. "Oh no, Sir, definitely no detours." She shook her head very seriously. "I don't care if you get a run in your stockings and you need to get a new pair. I don't care if you run out of lipstick and you need to find another tube. Straight back here, understood?" "You can rely on Louise Cums, Mr Peyton, Sir." -------------------------------- How had it come to this, thought Mark Peyton as he gazed at himself in the full length mirror. He stood there feeling incredibly embarrassed as he checked for any imperfections in his disguise. He had long blonde hair now - one of the standard issue M&R real hair self-adhering wigs for new acquisitions who came in to the building with less than flowing locks. He had 'perky' D cup breasts - M&R's incredibly realistic looking fake ones that adhered to skin and required a soluble solution to remove. Mark reminded himself that a spray can of the dissolving agent was in his right hand desk drawer. He had beautiful long fake fingernails in the popular French style that he'd glued in place and again there was a bottle of nail remover in his desk drawer. His skin was baby soft and hairless after being dusted with M&R hair remover that not only removed the air but froze follicle regrowth for up to a month. His face was made up very well with foundation, a youthful 'fresh looking' blusher, and a little highlighting; his lips with lip liner, 'Pink Pop' lipstick, and lip gloss; his eyes with dark eyeliner, glimmer eyeshadow, mascara, and of course long false eyelashes. And then there were the clothes. Oh God, the clothes... A dark pink 'uplift' bra with delicate edged lace, and matching frilled panties; a tightly buttoned thin, semi-transparent white blouse, lacking all the top buttons such that his realistic cleavage was on full display straining against the fabric, as was the sexy edging of the bra itself, the outline of which in any event could clearly be seen through the top. The blouse itself was short, displaying his stomach which thankfully was flat from years of regular exercise. The matching skirt was predominantly pink but of a tartan 'kilt' design except that it was incredibly short, barely covering Mark's panties. He hardly dared move, knowing that if he did so too quickly, the skirt could easily reveal a hint of his underwear. Then there were the stocking socks - crisp white in colour, coming to a few inches above the knee, and set of with a pair of cherry red 4 inch heeled school court shoes. Mark had tried walking in them and had nearly fallen over. How did girls walk in such high heels with ease? Thankfully he was impersonating a new girl who wouldn't have any experience of heels until today, and not for example an experienced girl like Louise Cums. The overall package was an astonishing transformation and Mark stood there in awe at the sight he saw reflected in the mirror. He touched his reflection, hardly believing that a few dozen M&R pro-products could have achieved such a change. It was true, he hardly recognised himself now and, realising that, he suddenly began to think maybe this plan would work, for there was no way Amelia bloody Frost would know that this slutty looking school girl was actually Mark Peyton. In fact, he didn't think ANYONE would recognise him unless they suspected his identity to begin with. The only thing Mark had left out from the M&R Standardised Schoolgirl package was the AAA size chastity belt. For starters it was obviously much too small - the space for the penis was tiny and would require an incredible amount of manipulation to squeeze his own shaft into the confined space, but secondly, Mark was furious to discover there wasn't a key supplied with it. He had asked Louise where the key was when he sorted through the items and, hiding all trace of a smile from her face, Louise fluttered her eyelashes with an innocent expression, explaining: "Oh, but Mr Peyton, Sir, surely you know that M&R girls are not permitted to handle chastity belt keys. That's against the rules, Sir. I asked Mr Bradshaw to look after it and give it to you later on after your meeting. Wasn't that clever of me?" "You gave the key to Miles Bradshaw?!" "Well, not exactly, Sir, because I'd have to pick the key up to give it to him, wouldn't I, and then I'd be spanked for touching it, and oh, but Mr Bradshaw can spank me soooo hard - he's such a brute, not like you Sir. No, I told Mr Bradshaw that he needed to pick up the key from the Uniform room and not give it to anyone except yourself, no matter what." There was no way that Mark Peyton was going to lock a chastity belt around his penis if he didn't have the key in his possession, and all attempts to call Miles on his mobile just went through to answer machine, so with time running out to get changed, he left the belt on the desk out of the way. He'd hide it in his desk drawer out of sight where no one would know it wasn't being worn before Louise returned at 2.45. He knew for a fact that Internal Audit assessments of new girls never required the girls to strip, so Amelia Frost would have no way of knowing he wasn't wearing one, not during a ten to fifteen minute interview anyway. He'd go belt-less, though that itself posed something of a problem as, much to his shame, he now had a raging erection that refused to abate. It wasn't just the way he felt when he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror, but it was the way the clothes felt on him, the awareness of the parts of his body that were covered, and the parts that were exposed. It was an intoxicating combination - the weight of the breasts, the constriction of the bra, the swish of the long blonde hair, and the smoothness of his skin that enhanced all the tactile sensations he was feeling. It was an overwhelming sensory overload and he trembled now, feeling so incredibly sexy. It must be terrible to be dressed like this and have a chastity belt locked in place, thought M